American Fallout_Book 1_Edge of Collapse

by Alex Gunwick

  She handed it to him. He cupped his hand over the top of it, only letting a small shaft of light escape.

  “Got it,” she said.

  “Let’s check over there first.” He pointed toward a darker spot farther into the hills.

  She gathered up her belongings and followed him. After searching for ten minutes, they found a small grove of old California Live Oaks. Some of their gnarled branches dipped down to touch the earth, while others reached out to form a canopy of cover.

  “This is perfect,” she said.

  “Absolutely. Let’s use this tree for both tents. There are plenty of good, sturdy branches.”

  “Okay.”

  She unloaded her tent-making gear and grabbed the 550 paracord. After tying a taut-line hitch knot around one branch, she secured the other side with a threaded figure eight knot. She walked across the ground, kicking away rocks and any other sharp objects. Satisfied with the ground, she unrolled the tarp and tossed it over the line.

  She returned to her pack and searched for tent pegs. When she couldn’t find them, she looked over at Derek.

  “You don’t happen to have extra tent pegs, do you?” she asked.

  “No. Try using rocks.”

  She searched through the pile of rocks she’d kicked out of her way. After grabbing the largest ones, she used them to stake down the edges of the tent. She grabbed the space blanket and laid it on the ground under the tent. It would have to work as a sleeping bag.

  She crawled under the tent and dragged her bag to the edge. She retrieved the first aid kit. When she pulled her shoes off, her feet began to swell almost immediately.

  “Crap.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “My feet are a wreck.”

  “Blisters?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you have any moleskin?”

  “Uh…” She searched through the bag. “Yep.”

  “If you have antibacterial wipes, use those first then apply the moleskin.”

  “Okay.”

  She followed his directions and had the blisters covered in no time. Her feet were still sweaty, so she didn’t put her shoes or socks back on.

  Derek crawled into his tent.

  “You did good today,” he said. “Get some rest. Tomorrow we’re going home.”

  “Thanks. And thank you for rescuing me. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along.”

  “You’ll be much safer when you’re with a group. Traveling alone right now is just asking to be robbed, or worse.”

  “I can’t believe everyone’s going crazy already,” she said.

  “It’s only been a couple of days. In another week, people will start to realize we’re in a bad situation and they will get desperate.”

  “Won’t everything go back to normal once they stop bombing us?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” He turned off his flashlight. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.”

  She lay back on the blanket. It was super thin and did little to cushion her from the ground. Even though she’d cleared the area, small pebbles and pieces of bark poked up. She tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position.

  Unable to find one, she sat up and rifled through her bag. She found an extra T-shirt and a thin pair of long underwear. She rolled them into a ball and stuffed it under her head. She punched the wad and rolled onto her side. She closed her eyes and waited to fall asleep.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  Derek’s soft and steady breaths mocked her. Of course he’d sleep like a baby. He didn’t even need it. He could probably walk forty miles and not need a break. She huffed and rolled onto her back. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at the top of the tent.

  A week ago her life had been close to perfect. Now she was stuck in a tent, trying to survive the apocalypse. She couldn’t wait to get to the cabin. At least she’d have a bed, unlimited access to water, and tons of food. She hadn’t realized how much she’d miss civilization once it had been taken away from her. Thank God her dad had turned into a crazy prepper. She shuddered to think of what might have happened if he hadn’t.

  Luke pulled on the door to the gas station’s snack shop. It didn’t budge. Locked. He cupped his hands together and peered into the darkness. An old man in worn jeans and a loose, gray T-shirt stepped out from one of the aisles. He walked up to the door.

  “Power’s out,” he yelled through the glass. “The pumps and the register are out.”

  “How long have they been out?” Luke asked.

  “An hour or two.”

  “Any idea what happened?”

  “The power plant stopped running. Word is they were hit this morning.”

  “With what?” Luke asked.

  “A bomb. Not a nuke though or we’d all be shadows on the floor.”

  “They’re dropping bombs now?”

  “Damn Commies,” the man grumbled. “We should have hit first.”

  “Who is it? Who’s attacking us?”

  “The Russians. I knew it would be them. Everyone’s been going on about North Korea for the last year, but they’re a blip on the map compared to Russia.”

  “I thought it might be the Chinese,” Luke said.

  “No. They’re taking over all our real estate. Much smarter. They don’t have to drop a single bomb. All they have to do is keep buying up our land. My daughter can’t even buy a place and she’s got a good job. The Chinese came in and propped the housing market up so Americans can’t afford to buy our own houses. Isn’t that some bullshit?”

  Luke nodded. He’d had a hell of a time trying to find a house in Orange County. All of the new homes were listed at around a million dollars and the older homes sold faster than you could bid on them. Mostly to investors.

  “Anyway, sorry I can’t help you out,” the man said before turning and walking farther into the store.

  “Wait!”

  “What?” the man asked as he returned to the door.

  “I have cash.”

  “I still can’t get the pumps to work without power.”

  “Can I get some food and water?”

  “Let me see the cash.” The man fixed his wary gaze on Luke.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Luke jogged back to the truck and grabbed a hundred dollars from his pack. He had more but didn’t want to let on. He couldn’t afford to spend it all now, not when he was still hundreds of miles from home.

  As he walked back to the store, a teenage boy on a skateboard rolled past. The kid stared at him with narrowed, hawk-like eyes before continuing on his way. A chill ran down Luke’s spine. It reminded him of the lookouts he’d encountered in Afghanistan.

  Luke hurried back to the store, not wanting to linger.

  “Here.” Luke discreetly showed him the cash. “I’ll only be a minute.”

  “You alone?”

  “Yeah.”

  The man reached into his pocket to retrieve a key. After unlocking the door, he stepped back to allow Luke to pass. The man locked the door behind them.

  “Stick to the inner aisles,” the man said. “I don’t want people thinking the store’s open. I had to shoot at some looters last night.”

  Luke noted the bags under the man’s eyes. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, which may have been the truth.

  “I’ll get you a basket.”

  After the man wandered off, Luke canvassed the store. The usual supply of beef jerky, potato chips, and trail mix greeted him.

  “You’re lucky the place hasn’t been ransacked,” Luke said.

  “I’ve got a gun,” the man said.

  Luke spun around to find the man at the end of the aisle holding a basket. A shotgun attached to a two point configuration sling hung across his shoulder. The muzzle pointed down and to the left, not in a threatening position, but the sudden appearance of the weapon put Luke on high alert. Trusting anyone at this point would be a mistake, so h
e kept an eye on the shop owner while he took the basket from him.

  Jumpy and ready to pull his pistol at the slightest provocation, Luke quickly filled the basket. He took all the high-calorie bags first, then added as many candy bars as he could find. They weren’t the best for nutrition, but he’d need the calories. Stopping at McDonald’s was out of the question. Even if he found one open, he wouldn’t want to wait around for his food. It would put him in too precarious a position if shit went down.

  A radio squawked behind the counter at the front of the shop.

  “CQ CQ calling CQ this is W7SHTF, Whiskey-Seven-Sierra-Hotel-Tango-Foxtrot. W7SHTF, Whiskey-Seven-Sierra-Hotel-Tango-Foxtrot beaming west from Las Vegas. Over. CQ CQ calling on twenty meters. W7SHTF listening.”

  The shop owner hurried over to the radio and picked up a large microphone. “Hey, how you are W7SHTF? This is W6NAH, Whiskey-Six-November-Alpha-Hotel. My name’s Rick. Romeo-India-Charlie-Kilo. Over.”

  “Hey Rick! You are five by nine. Name here’s Cody. Charlie-Oscar-Delta-Yankee. We’re located in Las Vegas. Over.”

  “You’re five by nine. Good signal coming through. We’re located in Coalinga, California, about two hundred miles north of Los Angeles. Over.”

  “How are things there? Over,” Cody said.

  “Power’s out but can’t complain,” Rick said. “How about you? Over.”

  “Haven’t been nuked yet. Not holding my breath though. I figured we’d be one of the first to go. Sin city and all. Over.”

  “Let’s hope they ran out of nukes. Over.”

  “God willing. Over.”

  Luke half-listened to the men’s conversation as he piled his haul onto the counter. He glanced out the window to make sure there wasn’t anyone outside. It was still clear, but he didn’t want to waste too much time.

  After stacking what he guessed to be about a hundred dollars’ worth of food and water, he motioned toward Rick.

  “Cody, it’s been great talking to you, but I’ve got to run. Keep your family safe. I’ll be praying for you. This is W6NAH. Clear.”

  “This is W7SHTF. Clear.”

  “I can’t scan any of that,” Rick said as he set the microphone down. “But I’m guessing it’s about right. Let’s call it even.”

  “Sounds good to me. How long have you been an amateur radio operator?” Luke asked.

  “My whole life. My dad taught me how after I watched Pump Up the Volume with Christian Slater.”

  “I love that movie. It was one of the last ones I saw before I shipped out to basic training.”

  “Army?”

  “Navy.”

  “A squid, huh?” Rick teased.

  “Hey, at least I’m not a knuckle-dragging jarhead,” Luke jabbed back.

  “Where’d you serve?”

  “A tour in Afghanistan, two in the Sandbox.”

  “And you still have all your limbs?” Rick asked.

  “For the most part. I think I’ve still got a few pieces of shrapnel where the sun don’t shine.”

  Rick laughed until he doubled over, wiping at his eyes.

  “You okay?” Luke asked.

  “Yeah. It just brings back memories. I was in before your time.”

  “’Nam?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hell of a war.”

  They fell silent for several seconds, both lost in memories.

  “You didn’t pick up much water,” Rick said as he bagged the snacks.

  “Ten gallons should hold me for a few days. I’ve got a LifeStraw if I need it.”

  “Grab a few more gallons on the way out. On me.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Luke said.

  “Well…” Rick walked around the counter and slapped him on the back. “I figure you’re Navy, so you’ll need all the help you can get.”

  Luke laughed until his cheeks hurt. He hadn’t found a moment of humor since he’d left San Jose. It felt good to let go of all the stress and fear for a couple of minutes.

  As he and Rick loaded the food and water into his truck, his heart felt lighter. He was fully capable of getting home to his family. The government could throw up a hundred roadblocks and he’d still make it, especially now that he was fully supplied.

  “You take care,” Rick said as he slammed the tailgate.

  “You too.”

  Back on the road, Luke turned onto Jayne Avenue toward Highway 33. Flat, barren fields stretched across both sides of the highway. The road crossed over an old, dried-out river bed. A smattering of dry sagebrush and anemic trees did little to break up the landscape.

  A flash of orange in the distance caught his attention. As he drove closer, the bright splotch of color took shape. And when he realized what he was looking at, he grabbed his gun from the passenger seat. He checked to make sure there was a round in the chamber before leveling it at the prisoner in the orange jumpsuit.

  15

  Liz backtracked past the café until she reached an unmarked dirt road. Gravel rumbled under the truck’s tires. The truck’s headlights cut through the darkness to illuminate a rocky trail wide enough for a car, but not much else. As she drove past gnarled oaks, she gripped the wheel.

  “Keep your eyes out for any other cars,” she said.

  “What about people?” Kyle asked.

  “Them too.”

  They continued on in silence for the next two miles. She kept the speed under twenty miles per hour so she would not miss the fire road junction. Dry brush and long wild grasses supplied fuel for occasional wildfires.

  In October 2007, as many as one million people had been forced to evacuate their homes as thirty fires burned in the mountains of Southern California. It had taken nineteen days to put out all of the fires. Unmarked access roads for firefighters crisscrossed the mountain. She hoped to make use of them to get to the cabin.

  “I’m hungry,” Kyle said.

  “Me too.”

  “Is there any food in our bags?”

  “Yeah, but do you think you can wait until we get to the house?” she asked.

  “I guess.”

  His dejected tone ignited her motherly instinct. She wasn’t about to let her son suffer while she tried to find the right road.

  “Grab one of the backpacks,” she said.

  He hauled one into the front seat.

  “Open it up and look for the granola bars. You can have some of those for now. We’ll have dinner when we get to the cabin,” she said.

  “Okay.”

  He retrieved a bar and tore into it. He’d had a huge growth spurt over the summer and had turned into a little trash compactor. When it came to food, if it wasn’t nailed down, he ate it. She didn’t mind the extra-large grocery bills. As long as he was healthy, she wasn’t worried.

  “Whoa!” Kyle pointed toward the right side of the truck. “There’s a cabin over there.”

  She tried to place it, but it didn’t look familiar. Even though they were at least a couple of hundred yards away, she could clearly make out the family’s movement inside. They had the place lit up like a Christmas tree. Anyone passing by would be able to easily count how many people were inside.

  “When we get to the cabin, we have to keep the lights off,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “OPSEC.”

  “OP-what?”

  “Operational Security.”

  “Sounds like something Dad would say.”

  “We learned about it together,” she said.

  “What is it?”

  “OPSEC is basically making sure you don’t give out any information about your location and resources. You don’t want anyone else to know how much you have and where you have it, because if things get bad, those people will come to take your stuff.”

  “We’ve got a ton of guns. No one’s going to take our stuff,” he said.

  “Even with guns, we don’t want to have to shoot people unless we’re in danger. Wouldn’t it be better if no one knew where we were, or what we had?�
�

  “I guess so.”

  “Don’t worry. No one knows about the cabin except us. We’ve taken steps to keep it well hidden.”

  “What if someone finds it on Google Maps?” he asked.

  “Google hasn’t sent its fleet of spy cars out into the canyons yet. I doubt they’ll be doing it anytime soon either,” she said.

  “Spy cars? Cool! I want a spy car!”

  “We might have to turn this into a spy car soon,” she said.

  “So people can’t see us?”

  “Exactly. When did you get so smart?”

  “Duh, Mom. I read stuff online.”

  She suppressed a shudder. God only knew what he’d read online. Although she’d done her best to restrict his internet usage with child-friendly blocking software, some kids were smart enough to bypass the system.

  Last month, Kyle had been at a friend’s house when one of the other boys had pulled up an adult site. She had already had the birds and the bees talk with her son, but what he’d seen had led to an extremely uncomfortable discussion about sexual consent. He wasn’t allowed to spend time with that particular child anymore. His friend’s mom had been mortified and had also banned the other child from playing with her son.

  As Kyle happily munched on the granola bar, she focused on the road. They had to be close to the second cutoff.

  Up ahead, two bright, shining eyes flashed in her headlights. The startled horse galloped off into the darkness. She eased off the gas and rolled forward, checking for other animals. Wild horses didn’t live in these hills, but maybe someone’s fence was down.

  A weed-covered dirt road appeared. She turned onto it and cut the headlights so only the running lights stayed lit. It wasn’t the best option for traveling at night, but there were several cabins up ahead, and she didn’t want them to see the truck.

  When she reached the edge of the property for the first cabin, she studied the dark structure. No lights or movement. Maybe the owners didn’t live there year-round. Or maybe they were inside hiding.

  She kept moving forward, passing two more unlit cabins before turning onto the final road toward her cabin. She navigated around a thirty-foot-tall natural rock formation that jutted out of the side of the hill. When she and Luke had scouted possible Bug Out Locations, they’d fallen in love with this parcel. Not only did it have a natural wall of protection, but a spring-fed stream ran across the back of the property, giving them unlimited access to water.